Pages

Thursday, August 16, 2012

My ADHD life

I don’t know why they call it
having your heart stolen. It’s not. And that’s the problem. It’s still very
much there, in your chest, beating, beating, beating.

Maybe if it was stolen it
would be better.

Maybe you wouldn’t feel the
ache of loneliness with every contraction.

Maybe you could finally get
some uninterrupted sleep, without the ghost of them.

Maybe every time your phone
went off your heart wouldn’t lurch to the front of your ribs like it is trying
to escape.

Maybe you wouldn’t feel like
grabbing a carving knife and cutting the damn thing out. Putting it in a box
with a bow. Neatly addressing it with loopy cursive writing that you reserve
for special occasions. And sending it to them.

Maybe they shouldn’t call it
getting your heart stolen. They should call it keeping your heart. For that is
far worse.

PS. I love you Toots. I’m
always here

And as I am sitting there at the creek bed, bawling my
eyes out because of the injustice and prejudice and hate, my mom simply states “maybe
you aren’t gay” like it could possibly solve all my problems.

Last night I
dreamed that you wanted me.

Wanted to hold
me.

Wanted to kiss
me.

Wanted to lay
with me.

Wanted to just be
with me.

But then I woke
up. The longing was pain.

Because you don’t
want me. You want her.

I've never been somebody's first. I've never been the first one they call, or their favorite, or the person they day dream about. That was normal. But I've always had a number one. My Hope perse. But now that I don't even have that, it makes no one wanting me oh so much worse.

So this guy just
out of nowhere decides that he doesn’t want to work near me anymore because I’m
gay and then he apologizes today. I guess I’m just supposed to be okay with
that because I’m the coordinator and should forgive him but fuck he made me cry
and I think he deserves to know how much it hurts to be persecuted for
something that you have no control over.

I'm sorry that people leave and by the time they remember me I don't want them anymore.
I'm sorry I've been a bitch and pushed people away.
I'm sorry I'm so forgettable.
But I'm not sorry for being me. I love me, even if you don't.

The coffee’s never strong enoughI know you think it’s more than just bad luckI’ve watched you slowly winding down for yearsYou can’t keep on like thisNow is as bad of time as anyThere, there, babyIt’s just text book stuffIt’s in the ABC of growing upNow, now, darlin’Oh don’t kill yourself'Cause none of us were angelsAnd you know I love you, yeah"